


Sacrilege

by acoolgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Heavy Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Teen Pregnancy, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-01 10:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolgirl/pseuds/acoolgirl
Summary: The universe, in all its cruelty, can be known for its softness, when it gives you a hand to grasp in the darkness.





	1. Warning

Dear Reader,

 

This work deals with Rape, with a focus on its aftermath. There is a description of rape in the first chapter, but it is not graphic, nor was it written to be sexually stimulating. I, as the author, condone the action with all my heart, and do not wish to be associated with authors who write rape as a fetish, or for 'fun' or whatever twisted reason they may have. This work was written to explore human spirit, and how it can recover after the most extreme of traumas.

Furthermore, this work deals with the rape of both man and woman, and will not make the man's trauma any less inconsequential than the woman's. This story  _is_ angst-heavy, but it is also about the happiness that can be found in family. This work does include a pregnancy by rape which is not terminated--if this makes you uncomfortable I would advise you to not read further.

To anyone who does decide to continue reading, I hope you enjoy the story, and please, if you would like to give me any feedback, do so.

 

Have a good day,

 

Marleen 


	2. Prologue

“My Lord?” Bellatrix finally questioned, after nearly fifteen minutes of impenetrable silence.

Slowly, Voldemort lowered his newspaper onto the table, and intertwined his spindly fingers together, resting his gray, papery chin atop of them.

Draco did not bother looking at the article; he just wanted to go up to his room and take a bottle or two of dreamless sleep so he could escape this unending hell, if just for a few hours.

“I must say, though insolent, Lovegood’s rebellion is rather ingenious,” he finally spoke, eyes calculating and lips pursed. “He has encrypted propaganda into his seemingly nonsense articles.”

“He underestimated you, my Lord!” Bellatrix cried reverently. “You are a god; no man can fool you!”

“Indeed…,” Voldemort agreed, crimson eyes darting down once towards the paper.

Truthfully, Draco felt relieved. Lovegood’s insane daughter, Luna, had been kept prisoner within Malfoy Manor to keep the deranged editor complaint. Now that he had ‘breached’ this agreement, the girl would probably just be killed, taking a huge burden off his shoulders. Lately, his fuck-shit _auntie_ had been suffering from some sort of recurring sickness, and decided that her _torture-little-girls_ duty would fall onto him. He hoped her illness was terminal.

“Do you wish for us to kill him, my Lord?” one of the death eaters, probably Yaxley, judging by his voice, asked. Draco didn’t look up: perhaps the less he was seen, the less he would be remembered.

“No, there is no need for that,” Voldemort waved off, eyes still contemplative. Then, the sound of long nails drumming across wood was heard through the somber room.

“Draco,” Voldemort addressed him, snapping him out of his thoughts, and dousing his body in icy fear.

“Yes, my Lord?” Draco answered as loud as he could, which was just above a whisper, a tremor resonating through his spine at his all-too-seeing eyes cast upon only him. He felt his mother’s fingertips brush against his wrist, but it brought little comfort, not when he could feel the dark lord himself slowly seep into his psyche.

“Your performance in the last raid was less than satisfactory,” Voldemort half hissed, half spoke, and Draco clenched his hands tightly, to keep from shaking all over. “But I do believe I have found a way for you to redeem yourself before me.”

A sinking feeling began to spread throughout his chest, threatening to block his airways as it slowly suffocated him, dread oozing into his skin like an acid, as he awaited his verdict.

“The Lovegood girl is pureblooded…her blood is perhaps just as sacred as yours. Killing her would just be a waste of witch,” Voldemort explained, and there was a murmur of agreement throughout the table. Draco felt like vomiting. “Yes, you Draco, will be given the _honor_ of introducing a pureblood witch to the touch of a pureblood wizard.”

Besides him he heard his Mother gasp, and felt his Father stiffen. Draco didn’t really notice. He felt something in his chest crumble, and he no longer felt as if he was still inside his body. The only thing he could feel was the overwhelming need to get up and just die right there, but even as fissures began to crack within his conscience, he knew that he would do whatever Voldemort would tell him to do, because he was a spineless coward who would lick dirt if it meant keeping his family- his _M_ _other_ alive, because death would bring him no bliss if it came paired with hers.

“Draco would be honored to perform such a task for you my Lord, wouldn’t you, Draco?” Bellatrix asked madly, her face twisted in maniacal glee.

Draco nodded, no longer able to hide his shaking.

\--

Lovegood and the old Wandmaker were both sleeping when he, Voldemort, and a few of the inner circle Death Eaters made their way down to the cellar. Voldemort had invited his parents to join them with a cackle, but Father feigned a faint excuse while Mother simply stood pale faced and unable to meet his eyes.

Voldemort raised the tip of his wand and emitted a bright flare accompanied by a loud _pop_ noise, and Lovegood jumped, eyes momentarily confused before settling on the group of sinister men before her. Had Draco not been doused completely by acute numbness, he would have found the lack of fear in her eyes to be the bravest thing he had ever seen. Ollivander was slower in awakening, and once he was cognizant, his fear was palpable.

“May I help you all?” Lovegood asked, voice scratchy from sleep. Besides Draco, Yaxley growled, probably at her insolence. Draco, however knew that she wasn’t being facetious; her offer was sincere.

“Actually, Miss. Lovegood,” Voldemort said slowly, with a deathly smirk. “I’ve come to seek your counsel.”

Draco eyed him warily, wondering what sort of mind games he was going to play with the girl-he didn’t care what he did to her, he just wanted to complete his part so he could finally throw up.

“On which matter?” Lovegood asked, her voice dreamy as ever, but even from his distance from her Draco could spot the shift of intensity within her eyes.

“Your Father breached the agreement he had established with me, and I do not take lightly to treason, Miss. Lovegood,” Voldemort said. “So, I’ve come to ask you: what would be more effective as punishment, torturing you, or him?”

The older Death Eaters snickered at the sick proposition as Lovegood’s face grew paler. She was silent for a few moments, head tipped in contemplation before she finally answered.

“You already have decided who you’re going to torture, you’ve only offered me the illusion of choice to make me sympathetic towards you for this act of faux mercy,” Lovegood spoke quietly, in a voice that was both firm and fleeting. “But I have already seen too much evil in this cellar alone to ever side with you.”

The time of a heartbeat passed when Voldemort began to laugh. Loud, bellowing laughter that echoed off the cold and grimy stones of the cellar.

“Yes!” Voldemort exclaimed smugly. “You are correct! But you needn’t worry, Draco here will make sure that pureblood reverence will be sowed within you, won’t you, Draco?”

Draco nodded, and stepped forward, both relieved and feverish that the moment had finally arrived.

“Please!” Ollivander begged hoarsely, speaking for the first time. “She is still just a child! I will make you the most powerful wand that I can possible make, just please do not do this to Luna!”

“Silence!” Voldemort shouted, red eyes flashing. “I will not tolerate insolence!”

Draco would have almost, _almost_ pitied the old man for being under Voldemort’s _crucio_ , had he himself not been under the spell once.

“Now go on Draco,” Voldemort instructed, lifting the curse off the now unconscious wand maker. “Show the traitor that pureblood society will still take her back in if she breaks out of her Muggle loving insanity!”

His long legs got him to her in just a handful of strides, and Draco’s insides felt as if they were turning inside out, as he watched her still childish face shift from realization, to fear, to desperation, to finally hopelessness.

She did not fight him when he pushed her down, or even when he crawled to be on top of her. The only noise she made at first were whimpers of pain to finally shuddering sobs. Draco kept his eyes screwed tightly shut, trying to focus solely finishing as quickly as was physically possible, trying to tell himself that this wasn’t real, that he wasn’t raping Luna Lovegood, the school lunatic, with _Voldemort_ watching, that an innocent girl’s blood wasn’t what was coating him, and that she wasn’t crying out in pain as he literally tore her innocence apart from the inside.

When it was over, he rolled away from her and lay face down on the filthy floor, he could still hear Lovegood sobbing and he felt as if her warm blood was slowly being poured over him, making the task of forming a thought impossible. His body was mechanical when he finally got up, his vision growing spotty and his frame shaking as her sobs grew louder and louder in his mind. He couldn’t remember what he had said when he had been congratulated, and he threw up the moment he entered his room, the bile burning his insides as he still felt Lovegood’s blood slipping across every inch of his body while her sobs still echoed throughout his mind.

The last thing he saw before darkness finally took over was the tip of his Mother’s wand, and her heartbroken face behind it, finally silencing Lovegood’s sobs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extremely overused Druna trope, I know, but I had to give it a try myself.


	3. Communion

Mr. Ollivander had given up on shaking her shoulder and calling her name.

Luna wished she could answer him, tell him she’s alright, that this will all end soon, but she can’t, not anymore. She couldn’t even get up from where she laid, the spot where just hours ago, she was…

She wanted to die.

For the first time in her life, since she’d been captured and imprisoned in this dark cellar, she hoped for the pain to finally overwhelm her and bring the sweet numbness that only death can give. The pain that radiated from between her legs was different from every other torture they had inflicted upon her: every throb felt like acid splashing against her soul, and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

The pain the pain _the pain_! It was all she could feel, and it bared down upon her, suffocating her. Her mind thought of nothing but what had been done to her-could not even begin to think of anything else, not even the precious creatures she and her Father researched together.

There wasn’t any beauty left in this world, not to Luna. The red blood that tainted the white skin of her inner thighs was proof enough of that. Her body would forever be encased in the act of brutality and violence, and Luna wanted no part of it. But in that moment, as the harrowing grief tore apart the fabric of her essence, Luna realized that she didn’t have to live like this. If they weren’t going to kill her, well, she would have to do the next best thing:

She would finally go Loony.

 --

173 hours. 10380 minutes. 622800 seconds.

471 baths. 40 vomiting spells. 17 nervous breakdowns.

2 times Mother closed his _sectumsempra_ wounds.

This was how Draco measured the time between now and when he…. when he carried out the Dark Lord’s…orders.

He was currently seated in a plush armchair by the large hearth of his room, staring, but not seeing the orange flames lick the stoned walls containing it. Narcissa had slipped out to get him some food, not that he was going to eat it anyways.

He wasn’t sure if he would have still been alive had it not been for his Mother. With her constant care, the boiling guilt had simmered down to an inextinguishable self-hatred. Guilt-guilt drove you to the brink, providing proof of why you shouldn’t be alive; but hatred, you could live with hatred. It was a life akin to rotting, but you still had a pulse.

The door creaked open and he didn’t bother looking up. The sound of heels clicking against wooden floors resounded through the room as they made their way to him.

“Draco,” Bellatrix cooed, making Draco jump and immediately become afraid. “You’ve been in your room more than I have lately, is everything alright poppet?”

She grabbed his chin with her two icy fingers and forced him to meet his eyes with her. In the low light of the fire, she looked truly hellish.

“Fine,” Draco forced himself to answer, “I’m fine, just a bit tired.”

She smiled twistedly at this. “Excellent! I’m feeling rather well today myself, so how about we visit the traitors tonight?”

_‘No!_ ’ Draco wanted to scream, as he shakily got up to follow her. _‘Please, God, I can’t see her!’_

He felt as if he was stepping into a nightmare as he slowly descended the ominous stairs to the cellar, his body randomly spasming as his breathing grew more and more shallow.

“Wake up, you filthy blood traitor!” Bellatrix screamed at Lovegood, who, oh God, was still lying on _that_ spot.

“She hasn’t moved since _he_ touched her,” Ollivander spat, glaring at Draco with hate and tear filled eyes.

Draco felt like clawing his eyes out.

“I should have been there,” Bellatrix muttered, as she toed the lifeless girl with her boot. Draco’s heartbeat grew irregular as he took in the sight of Lovegood’s limp body. She was insane, no doubt, but she was also an innocent girl, still with a baby face, and he had completely destroyed her.       

“She’s too weak for torture,” Bellatrix said in a voice that clearly conveyed how disappointed she was about this. “And the Dark Lord hasn’t ordered her death yet…. Draco! It is your duty now to stabilize her to a point where we can have some _fun_ with her again.”

“Auntie Bella!” Draco whined, not caring hot pathetic he sounded. “That’s a job for the elves, not me!”

He couldn’t barely stand in the same room as the girl, how could he possibly fucking _nurse_ her when it was _him_ who fucking _raped_ her.

“Do not argue with me!” Bellatrix screeched. “The elves re busy serving the Dark Lord!”

He said nothing as she whirled and climbed up the stairs, left alone once more in the place where he had become the lowest, most foul of men; the place where he lost ownership of his own body.

Turning to look at Lovegood, he fell to his knees and vomited bile.

\--

As a Ravenclaw, Luna was too intelligent to mistake the haziness she was usually in as reality. But she lived in it regardless, usually with her Mummy. Sometimes she would be brought out of the fog typically by the feel of something going down her throat or water on her skin. Those few moments where she was cognizant came coupled with feelings of extreme fear as she waited to be defiled once more. They never came, but she always slipped away into her world where there was still life and it was beautiful.

She was eating pudding with her Mummy when she was roughly snatched away, the bright colors of her world diluting and swirling until they were once again the somber darkness of the cellar. Mummy’s face had been knowing before it had disappeared.

“Eat the damn food, Loony,” Draco hissed at her, trying to force a spoon into her mind. For a moment, Luna forgot to feel afraid, and was instead curious.

“Draco,” she said finally, after trying three times to get his name out, her vocal chords rusty from disuse. “Why are you feeding me?”

Draco dropped the bowl he was holding at the sound of her voice, suddenly looking ashamed. Luna realized in that moment that that night, Draco too had lost his innocence—that he was suffering from the same pain of having your sense of self stolen and sullied.

“Draco,” she said once more. “Are you alright?”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Draco cried out suddenly, leaping away from her, and hugging his sides tightly. “You become a lifeless corpse for weeks and when you suddenly decide to join the living, that’s what you ask?”

“You’re insane!” he shouted, his eyes beginning to take on a tint of madness that was both similar and so far from his Aunt’s eyes. “And I’m disgusting!”

Luna did not say anything, she was too shocked to do so. A part of her reasoned that perhaps she _should_ be afraid of Draco, that she should resent him, wish death upon him; but as she watched him stumble up the stairs, all she could feel was empathy.

When Luna began to cry, she cried for both herself and Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does the pacing seem a bit too fast or no?


End file.
